Chapter 93. Deserted worlds
It all started on the day when the sky above Hogwarts suddenly darkened. Heavy clouds gathered over the castle, although the weather had been clear that morning. Harry and his friends looked up in surprise from the Gryffindor common room window. Something was not right.
Suddenly, a deafening clap of thunder resounded, causing the windows to rattle. And then a real storm began - the rain was pouring so hard it seemed like it would break through the roof. The wind howled like a wild beast.
"What is happening?" Hermione exclaimed.
But before anyone could answer her, a bright light suddenly appeared in the middle of the common room, dazzling everyone. When their eyes adjusted, the kids saw a strange figure. It was a human shape, but unusual. This figure was transparent, glowing with a blue light. Long light hair fluttered, even though there was no wind in the room. The creature's eyes shone with a cold white light.
"Who are you? What do you want here?" Harry asked, gripping his wand.
The barely distinguishable face just mysteriously smiled. The figure raised a hand, and a long sword with a peculiar shape appeared in it. Harry and his friends recoiled. There was something unsettling about this being deep in their souls.
"My name is..." began the mysterious deep voice, but another deafening clap of thunder drowned out his words.
Lightning struck directly at the common room window, shattering the glass! The kids barely had time to duck to avoid the shards hitting them.
When they raised their heads, no one else was in the common room with them. Only the cold wind howled in the spot where the figure had stood just moments ago. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other with the same bewilderment on their faces.
"Who was that?" Hermione broke the silence. "I have never seen magic like that. It was like a shadow, a ghost..."
"Or an empty shell," Ron added thoughtfully, looking at the broken window.
Harry stared grimly ahead. This strange figure... He felt the chill of its presence, as if the light in this being had long faded. But at the same time...
"I don't know who that was," Harry said slowly. "But I feel - their appearance signifies the end of an old life. As if the last days, full of despair, have arrived."
"The last days?" Ron asked nervously. "What do you mean?"
Harry shook his head.
"I'm not sure. But we need to be cautious. There is darkness in that person. We must find out who it was and what they are planning. And be ready to fight back if needed."
All lessons were canceled, exams postponed. Over the next two days, some students' parents hurried to take them out of Hogwarts: the Patil twins left the school on the day after Dumbledore's death, even before breakfast; Zacharias Smith's arrogant father took him away from the castle. On the other hand, Seamus Finnigan outright refused to leave with his mother, and they argued loudly for a long time in the entrance hall until they decided she would stay in the school until the funeral. Agatha had difficulty finding a available bed in Hogsmeade - Seamus told Harry and Ron that wizards and witches were coming to the village to say their goodbyes to Dumbledore.
Sam and Agatha each acted in their own way. Sam did not want to scare his family, but felt it was his duty to tell them about what had happened. His family was horrified by the news and eagerly awaited his return. Agatha, on the other hand, wrote a letter home and soon a tall, imposing man in uniform appeared in the entrance hall. Harry couldn't understand how a Muggle managed to get into Hogwarts, but he had never met such strict people with such sincere kindness in their eyes before.
Sam sat, crossing his legs and absentmindedly tapping an imaginary ball on the armrest. Even in such a tense situation, he couldn't sit still.
"Well, Agatha, how are you? Any plans for the evening? Maybe we can gather the kids and have a friendly game of Quidditch? The weather is great!"
Agatha shot him an angry look over her glasses.
"Sam, do you even understand what happened?! What games... I don't have time for that right now."
The smile instantly fell off Sam's face.
"Yeah, right... Sorry, was trying to lighten the mood. It's a habit."
He sighed and stared into the fire.
"Okay, if nothing else works, I'll have to write to the family. My brothers will lose it if they find out from someone else. And the youngest one worries about me, I can't just disappear. It's better if I tell them everything."
Hours passed. Harry and his friends stood in the castle vestibule when the doors swung open, revealing a tall man in military uniform - Mr. Sunspark. Harry stared at him in surprise, not understanding how a Muggle managed to get into Hogwarts.
"Are you Harry Potter?" Mr. Sunspark asked sternly.
"Yes, sir," Harry replied, standing at attention.
Agatha, standing nearby, recovered from the shock.
"Father, what are you doing here?!" she exclaimed in astonishment.
"I received your letter and came here immediately," the admiral explained. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."
Sam also approached, curiously studying the guest. The admiral's stern gaze was full of genuine concern and worry for his daughter.
"Agatha told me about you," the corners of the admiral's lips lifted slightly as he spoke to Harry. "She said you teach them better than the teachers and always protect your friends. What happened here?"
"Death Eater attack, sir," Harry replied shortly.
The admiral's face hardened.
"Because of those creatures, we've been at war for years. How did this happen?"
"Dumbledore was protecting us at the cost of his own life," Harry said quietly.
The admiral bowed his head and removed his hat in a sign of mourning.
"Honor and glory to the headmaster who gave his life for his students," he said, placing his hand over his heart.
Among the younger students who had not yet seen this wonder, there was a great excitement caused by a white and blue checkered carriage the size of a house, drawn by a dozen huge winged horses with white manes; it had flown in the evening before the funeral and landed from the sky on the edge of the Forest. Harry saw from the window as a huge, beautiful woman with black hair and olive skin came down the steps of the carriage - she came down and threw herself into the waiting arms of Hagrid. Meanwhile, a delegation of Ministry officials had settled in the castle, led by the Minister of Magic himself. Harry carefully avoided meeting any of them, he had no doubt that sooner or later they would demand a report from him again about Dumbledore's last absence from Hogwarts.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were almost inseparable these days. The wonderful weather seemed to mock them. Harry imagined what it would be like if Dumbledore had not died and they were spending the end of the school year together - Ginny would have already finished her exams, homework would be done... Now Harry was putting off from hour to hour what he was supposed to say and do, - it was too hard to let go of what had become his main source of comfort.
Twice a day they visited the hospital: Neville had been discharged, but Bill remained in the care of Madam Pomfrey. His scars had not improved - Bill had acquired a clear resemblance to Gruesome Gargoyle, although luckily he had kept both legs and both eyes; however, internally he seemed to have remained the same. The only thing that had changed in him was that Bill had developed a love for rare steaks.
"So he really is going to marry her," Fluer chirped happily, fluffing Bill's pillows, "I always said, Bulgarians don't cook the meat properly."
"How much practice do you have in that department?" Jeanne asked Fluer.
"It seems I'll just have to accept the fact that he is really going to marry her," Ginny sighed later that evening, sitting with Harry, Ron, and Hermione by the open window of Gryffindor's common room, gazing out at the darkening castle.
"She's not that bad," Harry remarked. "Not attractive, though," he quickly added, seeing Ginny's eyebrows rise; she reluctantly smiled in response.
"Well, if Mom can survive it, so can I."
"Did anyone else we know die?" Ron asked Hermione, flipping through the Evening Prophet.
His forced rudeness made Hermione grimace.
"No," she answered angrily and folded the newspaper. "Snape is being searched for, but there have been no results..."
"Well, of course," said Harry, understanding how delicate and deep the situation was. "To find Snape, you first need to find Voldemort, and since they haven't been able to do that all this time..."
Some time later, Jeanne quietly approached Harry, looking at him with sadness in her eyes. She gently took his hand in a sign of support.
"I know how much you are hurting, Harry. Dumbledore was like a father to you."
Harry nodded, not looking at her.
"Sometimes it seems like evil is winning," he whispered quietly. "That all our efforts are in vain."
Jeanne turned his face towards her, looking into his eyes.
"No, Harry. You are not alone. And good always prevails, even though it's a hard path. I will be by your side until the end, no matter what happens."
For a moment, their eyes met, and Harry saw warmth and care in hers. He squeezed her hand in response.
"Thank you, Jeanne. It means a lot to me."
No more words were spoken. Their souls had already understood each other without words.
They fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts, but Harry had no doubt that his friends, like him, were thinking about tomorrow morning when Dumbledore's body would find its final rest. Harry had never been to a funeral before - when Voldemort killed his parents, he was too young to attend the funerals. He didn't know what to expect and was a little anxious about what he might see and what emotions would take hold of him. He wondered if Dumbledore's funeral would make his death more real to him. There were moments when the horror of that death threatened to crush him, but they were replaced by hours of empty numbness during which (despite no one else in the castle speaking of it) it was difficult for him to believe that Dumbledore was truly gone. However, Harry didn't try to find a mental loophole, some way to convince himself that Dumbledore could come back. He merely felt the urge in his soul to possess the Holy Grail, reminding himself of what he still had to do.
The next morning, Harry woke up early to pack his things - the Hogwarts Express was leaving an hour after the funeral. Going downstairs, he found the Great Hall subdued. Everyone was wearing their formal robes, no one was hungry. The chair that resembled a throne in the middle of the staff table was left empty by Professor McGonagall. Hagrid's chair was also vacant: most likely, Harry thought, he couldn't bring himself to come to breakfast. Instead, Rufus Scrimgeour was rudely occupying Snape's chair. Harry tried to avoid meeting the minister's yellow eyes as he felt an unpleasant sensation that Scrimgeour was specifically looking for him. In the minister's retinue, Harry noticed the red hair and horn-rimmed glasses of Percy Weasley. Ron didn't show in any way that he knew his brother was present, poking at his kipper with rare hostility.
At the Slytherin table, Crabbe and Goyle were murmuring to each other quietly. Despite their bulky presence, in the absence of Malfoy who usually sat between them - tall, pale Malfoy - they both looked strangely lonely. Harry had hardly thought of Malfoy in these days. But even though his thoughts were preoccupied with Snape, Harry hadn't forgotten the fear in Malfoy's voice when the Death Eaters appeared on the tower, or the fact that Draco had lowered his wand just before their arrival. Harry didn't believe Malfoy could have killed Dumbledore. He still harbored animosity towards Malfoy for his dedication to Dark Arts, but now a touch of pity was mixed in. Harry wondered where Malfoy was now and what was forcing him to do Voldemort's bidding, threatening to kill both Draco and his parents.
Ginny interrupted Harry's thoughts by elbowing him in the side. Professor McGonagall stood up from the table, and the turbulent, sorrowful whispering that had filled the hall instantly died down.
"It's time," said Professor McGonagall. "Please exit the castle behind your heads of house. Gryffindors, follow me."
Everyone left their seats almost in complete silence. Leading the column of Slytherins, Harry noticed Slytherin, dressed in a majestic emerald green robe with silver embroidery. And he had never seen Professor Sprout, the Hufflepuff head of house, in such pristine attire before - not a speck sat on her hat. In the entrance hall, they found Madam Pomfrey standing next to Filch - she was in a thick black veil down to her knees and he in an old black suit and tie that smelled of mothballs.
As they walked out of the grand doors onto the stone steps, Harry realized they were heading towards the lake. The warm sunlight caressed his face as everyone silently followed Professor McGonagall to where hundreds of chairs were arranged in rows. In the middle, a path divided the rows, and in front of the first row stood a marble table. The day turned out to be the most beautiful, summery day.
Half of the chairs were already occupied by the most unusual people - old and young, some in heavily worn clothes, some in fancy dresses. Harry didn't know most of them, but among them were familiar faces, including members of the Order of the Phoenix: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks with her miraculously bright pink hair, Remus Lupin (he and she seemed to be holding hands), Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill who was being supported carefully by Fleur, and right behind them Fred and George in black dragon skin jackets. There was also Madame Maxime, taking up two and a half chairs, and Tom, the owner of the Leaky Cauldron, and Harry's neighbor, squib Arabella Figg, and the hairy bass player from the magical band "The Weird Sisters," and the Knight Bus driver, Ernie Prang, and Madam Malkin, who traded cloaks in Diagon Alley, and some other people, whom Harry only recognized by face - the bartender from the Hog's Head or the witch who pushed a trolley of snacks on the Hogwarts Express. The castle ghosts were also present, barely distinguishable in the bright sunlight, only visible when they moved, shimmering unrealistically in the sparkling air.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny sat at the end of one of the rows, closer to the lake. People whispered to each other, making it seem like a light breeze was rustling the grass, but the birds' singing was the loudest. The crowd continued to grow; Harry noticed Neville helping Luna settle down, and he felt a surge of affection. Out of all of the DA, only those two responded to Hermione's call on the night of Dumbledore's death, and Harry knew why: they were the ones the DA missed the most, perhaps only they repeatedly checked their coins, hoping the group would gather again...
As they made their way to the front rows, Cornelius Fudge passed by - his face pitiful, his usual green cauldron in hand; next, Harry saw Rita Skeeter and reviled the way her red-nailed fingers clutched a notebook; and then - Harry even bristled with anger - he laid eyes on Dolores Umbridge with a feigned mournful expression on her toad-like face, with a black velvet bow in her steel-curled hair. Seeing the centaur Firenze, frozen like a sentinel at the water's edge, she twitched and hurried to take a place farther away from him.
Finally, the professors settled down. Harry saw Professor Trelawney, who sat grim and dignified in the first row next to Professor McGonagall, and thought: did the Minister and all these important figures really regret Dumbledore's death? But then, strange, unearthly music began to play, and Harry, forgetting his animosity towards Trelawney, looked around trying to understand where it was coming from. Not just him - many uneasily turned their heads, looking for the source of the music.
"There, over there," Ginny whispered in his ear.
And then he saw them: a few inches below the surface of the clear, greenish, sunlit water, a choir of merpeople, horribly resembling inferi, sang in a strange, unknown language. The pallid faces of the singers were tinged with ripples, surrounded by lilac hair. Despite the hair-raising effect the music had on Harry, it was not unpleasant. The music clearly spoke of loss and sorrow. And as he looked into the otherworldly faces of the singers, Harry understood that at least they, if nothing else, mourned Dumbledore's death. Ginny nudged his elbow again, and he tore his gaze away from them.
Hagrid slowly walked down the aisle between the chairs. His face shone with tears, silently crying as he carried, as Harry immediately realized, Dumbledore's body wrapped in dark purple velvet with golden stars. The sight caused a sharp pain in Harry's throat; the strange music and the awareness that Dumbledore's body was so close to him seemed to momentarily drain the summer day of any warmth. Ron paled, looking shaken. Tears fell from Ginny and Hermione's eyes.
Harry could not clearly see what was happening ahead. It seemed like Hagrid carefully laid the body on the table. Then he stepped back into the aisle and blew his nose loudly, earning a few disgusted looks, one of which Harry noticed was given by Dolores Umbridge. Harry knew Dumbledore would not be upset with him. He affectionately nodded at Hagrid as he passed by, heading back, but the gamekeeper's eyes were so swollen that it was a wonder how he could see anything in front of him. Harry turned around to look at the back row of chairs where Hagrid was heading and realized who was serving as his guiding light: there sat the giant Grawp, dressed in a jacket and trousers the size of a large tent; he meekly, almost humanely, bowed his huge, ugly, boulder-like head. As Hagrid sat next to his half-brother and Grawp patted him on the head, the chair legs beneath Hagrid sank into the ground. Harry suppressed the desire to laugh for a moment. Meanwhile, the music stopped and he turned his gaze to the marble table.
A small man with patchy hair and in a simple black robe rose to his feet and stood in front of Dumbledore's body. Harry couldn't make out what he was saying. Only individual words reached him over hundreds of heads. "Noble spirit"... "intellectual contribution"... "greatness of soul"... all of this meant little to Harry. To the Dumbledore he knew, these words had almost no significance. Harry suddenly remembered how once a wizard asked permission to say a few words: "goblet," "belly," "remainder," "ruse" - and again he had to suppress a smile... What was going on with him today?
From the left came a quiet splash, and Harry saw that the merpeople were rising from the lake to also hear the farewell word. He remembered how two years ago Dumbledore had sat at the water's edge, right next to where Harry was sitting now, and conversed mermaid-like with the merpeople leader. I wonder where Dumbledore learned their language? How much was left unasked of the old wizard, how much did they not say to each other...
And then, without warning, the terrible truth fell upon him, full and undeniable: Dumbledore is dead, he is no more... Nothing stopped the hot tears that sprang from his eyes. He turned away from Ginny, from everyone, and looked across the lake at the Forest; the man at the table was still rambling, and Harry suddenly noticed some movement among the trees. Centaurs... They too had come to bid farewell to Dumbledore. The centaurs did not emerge from the trees, but Harry saw them standing silently, bows lowered, watching the wizards. He remembered his first ordeal in the Forest, his first encounter with the creature that was then Voldemort, the face of that creature, and the conversation that soon followed with Dumbledore about the need to keep fighting, even if defeated. "The main thing is to fight," Dumbledore had said then, "again and again, only this way can evil be stopped, even if it can never be completely eradicated..."
And sitting here, under the hot sun, Harry suddenly saw very clearly that there were people next to him who were needed: his mother, father, godfather, and Dumbledore; each was determined to protect him, but now that is over. Now he will not let anyone stand between him and Voldemort, it is time to say goodbye to the illusion he should have given up long ago, to abandon the belief that his parents' hands can shield him from any harm. There will be no waking from this nightmare, no comforting whisper assuring him that he is safe, that it is all just a product of his imagination. His last and greatest protector is dead, and now he is alone, as never before.
The little man in black finally fell silent and returned to his seat. Harry expected someone else to stand by the body, perhaps another minister to give a speech, but no, no one moved. And just when it seemed like no more speeches would be made, King Arthur Pendragon arrived surrounded by his loyal knights and advisors. What a commotion! Everyone rose and bowed before the king, regretting not laying out a carpet for his arrival. The king walked slowly to bid farewell to the school's headmaster. Approaching the cold body of the professor, Arthur placed a hand on his forehead, then briefly removed his lion mask to touch his lips to the professor's forehead. Putting the lion mask back on, His Majesty spoke:
"Wise Professor Dumbledore. A great sorcerer, full of knowledge and virtue. His contribution to the history of Hogwarts and the noble magical world cannot be overstated. His light illuminated everyone, leaving an indelible mark on our souls. Kindness, wisdom, and a commitment to the greater good set him apart. We mourn his loss, our keeper of these high ideals. May his soul find peace in the most beautiful heavenly realms. Let us pay our final respects and keep his bright memory alive. Time is unforgiving. Soon we will announce the appointment of a new headmaster to continue Professor Dumbledore's work. His wise spirit and unwavering dedication to good will inspire us to great achievements. Farewell, glorious professor. Your merits and dedication to the school will remain eternal, enlightening the depths of our hearts. Let generosity and mercy be with us to follow the path of good you have shown us. Only with them we shall achieve victory."
The onlookers erupted in thunderous applause, but as they quieted down and His Majesty was about to say something else, on the lake shore someone else continued to clap. His Majesty took a step sideways and turned smoothly in place. There were cries, someone felt unwell, many brandished their wands, taking combat positions, while His Majesty gestured for everyone to calm down and continued to look at the unexpected guest.
"Well then, congratulations on your eloquent speech, Your Majesty," Voldemort sneered, clapping slowly. "I could barely hold back tears as I waited for you to finish."
For this occasion, he was dressed in a black business suit, looking like a dandy. When Voldemort appeared on the clearing, there was murmuring of discontent and fear. Many reached for their wands, Hagrid clenched his fists menacingly. Only Harry and his close friends remained still – only Hermione gasped quietly and covered her mouth with her hand.
Arthur placed a hand on the hilt of Excalibur as Voldemort looked over the gathered crowd and mockingly remarked: "You are a cruel and heartless people... Can't I even bid farewell to my beloved headmaster?" He raised his hands on either side and continued. "See, I don't even have a wand."
The king hesitated, but then removed his hand from the sword.
"Speak your farewell and leave. You are not welcome here," he said firmly.
Voldemort approached Dumbledore's body and hesitated for a moment. Voldemort stared silently at him for a while. His face was impassive, but shadows of different emotions danced in his eyes – the triumph of the victor mixed with the bitterness of losing a worthy opponent. However much the Dark Lord hated Dumbledore, he was in a way a part of his life, and his death left a void.
Finally, Voldemort broke the silence. His voice started quietly but gradually filled with venomous triumph: "Goodbye, old man... It turns out that I stand over your fragile body, victorious in our long-standing conflict. Yet I will miss you... Who will now stubbornly, skillfully thwart me as you did? I will miss our chess games..."
His hand trembled when he touched the cold forehead of the deceased with his fingertips. But then, as if scolding himself, the Dark Lord laughed. He laughed louder and louder with each passing second, more and more hysterically. But those present knew that it was not just laughter. Voldemort was triumphing. And Voldemort was reveling in Harry's pain.
When Voldemort laughed over Dumbledore's body, there was a murmur of protest. Admiral Sunspark stepped forward, anger distorting his usually calm features.
"Silence!" he barked in a tone that made everyone present involuntarily flinch. "You insult the memory of a great man! Albus Dumbledore saved the lives of hundreds and was a true hero!"
Sunspark clenched his fists, jaw tightly set. His daughter, Agatha, clung to his shoulder in fear, but the admiral didn't even notice.
"Stop this disgrace and leave! Or I will expel you by force. Stop tarnishing the memory of a great man!"
"Scoundrel!" Hagrid couldn't hold back, his fists clenched. Professor McGonagall covered her mouth with a handkerchief, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Harry's friends rushed to him when he doubled over in pain from his scar. Zhanna hugged Harry's shoulders, while Dudley shielded him from Voldemort. At that moment, Harry's scar felt ready to explode like a dozen powerful bombs, and Voldemort continued to amuse himself, relishing every moment of Harry's pain. Meanwhile, Ritsuka stared unwaveringly at the Dark Lord, his eyes burning with righteous anger.
"How dare you..." he hissed. "Dumbledore was a great man! His death is a tragedy for all. Your gloating is unworthy and disgusting. Leave and do not taint this mourning with your presence!"
"I will kill him with my own hands!" Zhanna whispered. "I swear, I will strangle him!" Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. "Enough! Get out of here before you're sorry!"
As Voldemort laughed heartily, Harry saw the worried faces of his friends above him. Hermione pointed behind Voldemort. Several people stood there, the mighty figure of Hercules standing out the most. Ignoring Zhanna, Voldemort glanced at those gathered. After bidding farewell to Dumbledore's body, Voldemort stood in silence for a moment, pondering something. Then he turned sharply to the crowd and spoke, his voice carrying triumph but also other tones:
"In my lifetime, there was no wizard more powerful and worthy than Dumbledore. And yet, today I stand at his grave. This world will no longer be the same."
The reaction to his words varied among those present at the funeral. Dumbledore's friends and members of the Order of the Phoenix looked at the Dark Lord with bitterness and condemnation. His followers exchanged triumphant glances, anticipating the upcoming changes. His gaze landed on Harry and his friends:
"You have seen with your own eyes what I am capable of. And yet, I do not desire unnecessary bloodshed. Swear allegiance to me now — and things will be much easier for you."
Harry and his friends only looked back contemptuously, making it clear that they would never betray Dumbledore.
As Voldemort spoke, his companions behind him exchanged impatient glances. Then he spoke again, his tone even more arrogant and disdainful. He began pointing at each person he saw, as if assigning them their place.
"As of this day, I declare myself the true king of England. Those who dare to defy me or resist me, know this — you will regret it under my rule."
Towards the end, he pointed his finger under the nose of King Arthur himself.
"Kneel to me, your new king!" Voldemort screamed. "Bow your heads before me, show respect!"
King Arthur, however, remained composed in the face of these insults. He understood that Voldemort was trying to provoke him, and did not want to stoop to his level.
"A life full of fear and hatred is hardly worthy of respect. You have lived it in pursuit of immortality, destroying your own soul. You declared war on a child out of fear of death. Whom do you respect enough for them to respect you?"
Voldemort's face contorted in a grimace of rage.
"We'll see about that, as you may still dance to my tune as well! We will talk about respect when you beg for mercy at my feet!"
But King Arthur did not flinch. He calmly walked up to Voldemort and straightened his tie, indicating that he was not afraid of his threats.
"I will await our meeting. - he said firmly, watching as Voldemort disappeared with a face twisted from anger.
The bright sun was blinding, casting sharp shadows on the weary faces of those present. Voldemort glanced at them with disdain, his smirk revealing his sharp teeth. He seemed alien in this sad procession, a dark spot against the mournful ivory-colored clothes.
Enraged by the disrespect of those present, Voldemort sharply turned away and strode away from Dumbledore's funeral procession. His loyal followers - Bellatrix Lestrange, Severus Snape, and Draco Malfoy - were already waiting for him on the side. Next to them stood a tall, silent woman with dark hair - Harry remembered her from that fateful night in the Astronomy Tower.
"These insolents will regret their disrespect! It's time to leave," Voldemort said to his companions.
"My lord, there's no need to rush with retribution," Snape cautiously remarked. "Right now, the main thing is to strengthen our forces."
"Enough hiding in the shadows!" Bellatrix snapped. "It's time to teach these traitors a lesson!"
He hesitated for a moment, a shadow of doubt flickering in his crimson eyes. Something stirred in his chest as he looked at Dumbledore's lifeless body. Could it be regret?
"Bella is right. I won't let them get away with everything," he resolutely declared, shaking his head to dispel the thoughts. "Summon the Saders, Semiramis! Let them turn this place into dust."
The beautiful lady in rich attire only slightly furrowed her thin brows in response to this order - and at that moment something incredible appeared on the horizon.
It was a colossal flying fortress, slowly approaching the ceremony. Huge stone walls and towers were connected by walkways, forming a complex multi-level labyrinth. Colorful flags with unfamiliar symbols fluttered on the tops of the towers.
Flying over the gathered, the fortress cast a titanic shadow on the ground. But suddenly it was enveloped in bright light - thousands of mirrors embedded in the walls opened up, reflecting the sun, and now the rays played on the edges of the fortress, illuminating it with dazzling radiance.
A cry of amazement came from below - on the lower levels of the fortress, real gardens were laid out. Trees and bushes of all kinds and colors grew straight from the stone beds and intertwined with colonnades and arches. These were gardens, floating in the sky like a magical island.
As they approached the fortress, all new wonderful details of its construction became visible. The colossal size of the structure amazed the imagination, while the incredible beauty and elegance of the dream embodied in stone captivated the spirit. These were truly the Hanging Gardens - one of the wonders of the ancient world, brought back to life by the will of its owner.
But Voldemort did not look at this wonder of the world - he was searching for Snape with his eyes. Snape responded with a barely noticeable, reassuring nod.
Finally, the Hanging Gardens appeared before them in all their splendor. Voldemort stepped forward, pausing for a moment. Then, resolutely, he walked up, unable to restrain one last anxious glance at Dumbledore. His followers followed him.
"What is your command?" Semiramis asked him.
Voldemort ascended to the top of the Hanging Gardens, looking thoughtfully into the distance. His face was inscrutable, only the thin lips pressed together. His followers waited in silence for further orders, exchanging worried glances.
"My lord?" cautiously called Semiramis. "You wanted to level this place to the ground. Have your plans changed?"
Voldemort remained silent for a long time, not taking his eyes off the distant towers of Hogwarts.
"No," he finally said quietly. "Let the ceremony proceed as planned. I have no reason to seek revenge on the dead."
A heavy silence hung in the air. The followers looked at each other in open astonishment. This was so unlike him.
"But... my lord..." Snape began.
"I said no!" Voldemort snapped, turning around. "I had... personal reasons to bid farewell to Dumbledore. That's all."
He turned and walked away, his cloak billowing behind him, indicating that the conversation was over.
"What in the world was that?" Grum exclaimed, watching Voldemort walk away. "He appeared without a wand, made a show, and then backed down?"
"Albus clearly meant more to him than we thought," McGonagall said thoughtfully.
"Perhaps we should pursue that bastard?" Kingsley Shacklebolt suggested, frowning. "While we still have a chance to catch him off guard..."
"No. Something is not right here," Grum shook his head. "If Dumbledore meant so much to him that he spared this place... It's better to wait. To see what happens next."
McGonagall silently nodded. There were too many puzzles hidden in Voldemort's strange actions...
Then several voices screamed at once. Bright white flames flared up, engulfing Dumbledore's body and the table on which it lay. The flames rose higher and higher, obscuring the body. White smoke spiraled upwards, creating strange figures in the sky. Harry's heart seemed to stop for a moment. He thought he saw a joyful phoenix soaring into the blue, but the fire extinguished in the next moment. In its place stood a white marble tomb, containing both Dumbledore's body and the table on which it rested.
Again frightened cries - a whole cloud of arrows rose into the air, but they all fell to the ground before reaching the crowd. It was, Harry realized, the centaurs' final farewell: turning their backs to the wizards, they were already disappearing into the wooded shade. And like them, the merfolk slowly submerged into the greenish water and disappeared from sight.
Harry looked at Ginny, Ron, and Hermione: Ron was scowling as if blinded by the sunlight, Hermione's face was shining with tears, but Ginny was no longer crying. She looked at Harry with the same piercing, intense gaze he had seen when Ginny hugged him after Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup in his absence, and Harry realized: in that moment they understood each other completely, and when he told Ginny what he was about to do, she wouldn't say "Be careful" or "Don't do it," but accept his decision, because she expected nothing else from him. And he finally mustered the courage to tell her what he had to say since the moment Dumbledore died.
"Ginny, listen," he whispered softly amidst the growing noise of conversations as people stood up from their chairs. "I can't be near you. We can't see each other anymore. We can't be together."
She replied with a strange, crooked smile.
"And all for some stupid, noble reason, right?"
"The past few weeks spent with you... they felt like they belonged to another life," Harry said. "But I can't... we can't... there are things I have to do alone."
She didn't cry, just looked at him.
"Voldemort uses people who are dear to his enemies. He's used you as a bait once, just because you're my best friend's sister. Imagine the danger you'll be in if things remain the same between us. He'll find out, he'll figure it out. And he'll try to get to me through you."
"And what if I don't care?" Ginny asked forcefully.
"I do care," Harry replied. "What do you think I would feel if it was your funeral... and because of me..."
Ginny turned away, gazing at the lake.
"I never stopped thinking about you," she said. "I just couldn't. I always hoped... Hermione told me I should live my own life, maybe date other people, so I could feel more like myself when I'm with you, remember? She thought that if I became, at least a little, myself, you would pay more attention to me."
"Hermione is a genius," Harry said, trying to force a smile. "It's a shame I didn't approach you much earlier. We would have had so much time... months... maybe years..."
"But you were busy, saving the magical world," Ginny replied with a slight smirk. "Okay, I can't say you surprised me. I knew this would happen sooner or later. I knew you wouldn't be happy until you defeated Voldemort. Maybe that's why I like you so much."
Hearing those words and thinking that if he continued sitting next to Ginny, his resolve would weaken, Harry couldn't bear it. He looked around - Ron was already hugging Hermione, who was crying on his shoulder, tears falling from the end of her long nose. Waving a goodbye to Ginny, Harry stood up, turned his back to her and Dumbledore's tomb, and walked around the lake. It's easier to keep moving than to sit still, just like it's better to quickly set off on the path leading to the Horcruxes and Voldemort's death, rather than waiting for the opportunity to come.
Bright sun illuminated Hogwarts that day. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the others sat on the shore of the lake, watching the ripples in the water.
"So, His Majesty has entrusted me with a sacred mission," Harry broke the silence. "I admit, it's a huge responsibility."
"Handling such a burden won't be easy. Are you ready?" Ritsuka asked doubtfully.
"I am ready to do whatever it takes to defeat Voldemort. But I won't put you at risk," Harry firmly said.
"Oh, what nobility!" Jeanne whispered in admiration. "But perhaps we should think about the Servant?"
Dudley proudly straightened: "I have Koyanskaya with me! She is so strong. Right, girl?"
Koyanskaya nodded in response.
Tesla smirked at Hermione: "As for me, I would like to fight those Death Eater Servants. I'm sure we can outmatch them."
"Oh yes! That would be just what we need!" Mordred supported him.
There was a long silence. The crowd had almost dispersed, the last mourners, leaving, circled around the monumental Grohha, still embracing Hagrid, whose mournful groans echoed over the lake water.
"We'll be with you, Harry," Ron said.
"What?"
"In your aunt and uncle's house," Ron said. "And then, wherever you go."
"No," Harry quickly objected. He had not counted on this, he wanted to impress upon his friends that he was going on his dangerous journey alone.
"You once told us," Hermione murmured quietly, "that we have time to back out if we want. We didn't take that time, did we?"
"We're with you, no matter what happens," Ron said. "But before you go anywhere else, even to Godric's Hollow, you'll have to stop by your mom and dad's."
"Why?"
"Didn't you forget about Bill and Fleur's wedding?"
Harry stared at him in amazement - the fact that there were still normal things in the world, like weddings, seemed both incredible and wonderful to him.
"Well, we can't miss that one," he said.
Despite everything, despite the dark, winding path that awaited him ahead, despite the final meeting with Voldemort, which Harry knew would happen for sure - in a month, a year, or ten years - the thought that he still had one last happy and peaceful day to spend with his faithful friends lightened his heart.